“Week 9” has officially been added to the OWS Poetry Anthology. And I have exciting news! This December 17th, we’re launching a website for the OWS Poetry Anthology so it’s more easily accessible and ever more beautiful and free. The anthology will remain at the People’s Library WordPress page as a PDF but will also be at owspoetry.org as a more navigable version. So everyone that isn’t going to the re-occupation of Dec. 17th, you can occupy the new poetry site! And you should write a love poem to everyone that is occupying the new space on Dec. 17th.

A Writing Prompt(For those that need a nudge in the poetic direction): What does occupation mean to you? The word has a few meanings: Occupation – noun 1. a person’s usual or principal work or business, especially as a means of earning a living; vocation: Her occupation was dentistry. 2. any activity in which a person is engaged. 3. possession, settlement, or use of land or property. 4. the act of occupying. 5. the state of being occupied. But none of those meanings seem to capture the meta-experience occupations across the country have offered people. When has a job ever allowed a worker to fully engage in their right to free speech, free sleep, free food, free books, free everything… So please think about what it means for you to occupy. Where you occupy. Why you occupy. How you occupy. And form those messy ideas in your mind into words. And put those words onto paper. Then send those ideas to the OWS Poetry Anthology – stephenjboyer@gmail(DOT)com.

In other news, “Week 9” hosts the first Non-Latin language poetic contribution to the anthology! This is a huge step! We are breaking new ground! Incorporating more voices! A United Global Occupation that Occupies Everything is coming! The following poem doesn’t represent what the majority of occupiers feel, but that’s okay! Occupy Wall Street is about the freedom of opinion. It’s about people saying whatever they want. Anyone that has been to any G.A. knows the great lengthy arguments we go through to get anything accomplished. We believe in disruptors, for we are all disruptors.

And in closing, here’s the youtube video version of the poem the poet KJ Ink sent this past week… It’s called “Occupy There Minds”. I’ve been seeing more and more poets posting videos of their work on youtube… check out the OWS Poets!

4 responses to “OWS Poetry Anthology Week 9 Update”

We are back again I represent the 99 percent
Who resents the one percent who has all the money that is spent
They got millions and billons to satisfy the greedy
They don’t care to feed the needy
We camp out and protest the mess of this so called democratic process
We march and demonstrate to try to alter our fate

Plastic bullets are fired and still we remain inspired
Tear gas is thrown in the crowd
panic sweeps through like a jet stream in the fogginess
We wonder where is the freedom where is the justice
What crime did we commit?
No one is read their rights or explained why they’re detained
Americans young old from all backgrounds and colors are dragged with plastic handcuffs on their wrists
Thousands arrested when we protest and resist
Someone’s forgotten my first amendment rights
Someone’s forgotten my right to free assembly
Someone has forgotten this is a democracy
The 99% reach out and rise from a flicker on Wall Street to a flame burning
through our countries main streets to around the world north south west and east
Hear the sound of marching feet to defeat the elite
We protest against the bankers’ bailouts
We protest against foreclosed homes
Our outrageous student loans
Against our working homeless
We stand against big money in politics
We demand healthcare for the poor who are sick
We amass to stand against corporate greed
We chant for freedom from poverty for those in need
The police come in the dead of night and rip down our protest signs
They rip down tents and tarps
They trash thousands of library books
They herd us with horses to force us to change our marching courses
spray us with mace,
fence us in with blockades
The right wing money controlled media turns a blind eye
What is their reply?
Will you sit idly by?
What is the future for our children in this economy?
This country is full of irony
We condemn other countries for limiting freedom of speech
but can’t see our own hypocrisy
Corporations are not people
We need a country that is equal
So mic check this nation
Let the unions take to the streets
Demonstrate a strike
Let us close down ports in Oakland California New York and Florida
Demonstrate in the streets of D.C.
Occupy Wall Street close down the stock exchange
We are the 99 percent screaming it’s time for a change.

Consumerism’s got the best of me in spite of my fighting so hard to maintain the good thinks in life. I keep fighting a losing battle. I want to believe the best things in life are free but I get stopped in my tracks.

Tons of paper discarded daily senselessly. No one could be so sad. Trees ask me to tell them why they’re born to be discarded they wail about their senseless lot, they live to be – they ask me if I know why it’s like this, what’s all this suffering for? I cry. I cry.

Lights on in every room whether you’re home or not to keep the burglars away. In Harlem Mexicans crowded 3 families to each apartment while we pay taxes to build another Yankee Stadium right next to the one already there. The rich pay more for private boxes while Mexicans live in NYC barracks, 20 in a 3 room apt, barely able to pay the rent. Please I beg you give the poor some of my taxes instead I plead. They turn a deaf ear. Please, please?

I sit in my room looking out at the rain, no one could be so sad. Gloom everywhere, I sit and I fear, I don’t know what the world is coming to.

Kill canned hunts. WTF, what kind of concept kills caged animals for a few dollars from the rich? I can’t wait. I want to kill hunters; torture them watch life slowly drain from them, their heads lolling to one side. I place their head on my lap. Take a pic too, like they do to the lioness bleeding from her mouth, trying to feed her cubs behind the fence, teats full of milk. Make them like quarry, my prey, another trophy.

You can’t hide from the ugliness I try to hide I do, I do. I can’t take much more.

I sit in my chair filled
Filled with despair.
No one could be so sad.
gloom everywhere, I sit and I stare. What’s the state of the universe? Is there anybody out there?

The ugliness all a glow, picture show for family. Bring up your moohlah! We got yours here. Worse than Sodom & Gomorrah. My soul’s for sale. Name your price! Sold to the devil at the crossroads!

This revolution will not be televised; will not put the shine back on your teeth. Civil rights gone, lives tapped into by government, someone’s in control somewhere. Not me, hey, I’m all alone in here waiting for the pain to go away. I sit in my chair full of despair, no one could be this sad.